"I agree wholeheartedly, Dougal. That lighthouse must go up. The location is ideal, and the need is paramount." He leaned back in a leather-upholstered chair that matched the one Dougal occupied. The two men had retired after dinner to the smoking room on the top floor of Dundrennan House, Aedan's Strathclyde manse. "A shame Lady Strathlin cannot understand that." Dougal nodded, appreciating his cousin's natural reserve and his ability to listen calmly, giving others time to sort things out for themselves. Lingering over glasses of port, Dougal had confided in Aedan, an engineer of highways and byways, his difficulties with the lighthouse as well as the baroness. "Despite the latest maneuvers of Lady Strathlin and her mob of solicitors, I cannot, and will not, give up this cause." Dougal rolled the bowl of his glass between his palms, staring at the dark liquid sloshing inside. "I will build the thing myself, even fund it myself, though it would break me. I will set every damned stone with my own hands." He sat forward and rubbed a hand over his face, weary and frustrated yet feeling an almost overwhelming determination.
